You spot a nest in a dead, twisted old oak tree, a soft noise coming from it. You stop in the trail, pausing, curiosity and caution fighting. Adjusting your bag, you climb the small hill towards the tree. As you get closer, you see a shape in the nest, the source of that noise.

The warbles are warped, like one of those out of tune old "talking" toys. You can make out some semblance of speech, intermingled with the sound of cracking knuckles.

"Hello? Helloooo..."

It hungers.